Rita's Memoir - Atlanta

From Rita's Journal.....

"Acres of wildflowers cover the cool, sun-dappled vista overflowing with a patchwork of vibrant colors swaying in the steady breeze.

Tossed about like a cork on a stormy sea, a butterfly flits hither and yon, lighting then blown asunder only to light again on another burst of color.

This is my freedom, my joy, to dance among the tantalizing blossoms taking pleasure where I find myself, stamen poised, their pollen filled anther and rigid filaments each calling to me as the winds carry me about. They would use me for their purpose, I an object for their delight, joining pollen to sticky stigma.

But look closer for I am not wind tossed, not randomly dropped on this petal or that stamen. The winds assist my choices but do not dictate. I, wings fluttering and appearing unsure, choose where I settle. Deliberate, purposeful, intentional, on nearly every flower in this field that I alight nothing but a brush do I make. A taunt, I tantalize, encourage, and excite. But no pollen reaches me, I am not used but user as I provoke anthers from petals safety. Lingering longer here, less so on another, each flower thinking they alone have my eye, each believes their adornments have enticed me to do their bidding.

I flicker to and fro under my own accord, agitating each in turn as I flap here, wave past there, and confuse all. The wind moves them, a commotion of jumbled quivers while I float where I may and choose which to touch and which to ignore.

Distress not for the butterfly but rather the flowers pity. Their glorious colors, their attractive scents, the allure their swollen ready-to- burst anther; all are still but stuck in the ground, tethered to a single spot. They but sway, the butterfly in her splendor rides the currents where she chooses, no earthly anchor, her wings spread, senses alive. It may appear haphazard, this perturbation, this jagged flight but look carefully -- tis the butterfly that chooses its flower, where and when it wants."

Atlanta was not at all what I expected. About a week before Kim and I were to drive up to Atlanta for the trade show, we got a call from Mrs. Kleeman requesting our shoe sizes. I tried to be polite, though I was still angry to be in this situation and at every meeting with Agent Baglioni I was reminded how terrible Bert and Mic were. I didn't need much convincing of that, but at the same time I was becoming more and more cognizant of the fact that I did enjoy teasing and showing myself.

"Is this for the uniform?" I asked the woman with the southern drawl whose call was interrupting my work.

"Why, yes, my dear, it is. Bertie asked me what I thought of boots and, well...you know boys, they just seem to think we girls don't give a bother about what we wear," she said sweetly, "so long as a we look good for them." I could hear the saccharine smile in her voice.

"Boots? Really?" I could feel my legs aching already.

"Don't you be fretting, darling, I know what them stiletto things can do to a girl. No, I did some shopping and found the cutest black ladder-back cutout knee-high boots that have just a three-inch heel, not those silly six-inch torture devices they sell everywhere," she confessed with satisfaction. "I do try to look out for you girls, helping out as you are with our business."

So, I thought, she thinks we're all just 'helping out.'

"Mrs. Kleemen," I began.

"Sweetie, you just call me Betty. I feel so old when I hear that from another woman, like I'm their grandma or some ol' auntie. I may not be in uniform with you all, but I do my part too. We're family, after all, all working together to grow our business."

I wondered if madams in those old West saloon brothels considered themselves family with the women trapped in that life also. It wasn't like I'd volunteered to do this! Damnit, why was I feeling excited?

"Betty, what is the uniform like? I just..., I normally dress fairly conservative, y'know. Nothing showy..."

"Oh, Sweetie, don't you worry a bit. You'll look just fine. It's really a cute little ensemble; dark blue stretch denim pants -- what we used to call 'hot pants' or 'short-shorts,' - and a white button up shirt, with the company logo, of course. And the new boots y'all will be wearing too."

It really didn't sound that provocative. Maybe the stuff Agent Baglione had told me wasn't right? But then, why did I have to be blackmailed into doing this? What was with the threats?

I almost let my guard down -and found I was a bit disappointed inside- then Betty added, "Of course, that's just for the first couple hours, until the VIP reception begins. But don't you worry about it, I'll explain that all when I finally get to meet you and that lovely sister of yours next week. I must go now, darling, I have some boots to order. See you and Kim next Friday. Ta-ta!"

The drive up to Atlanta was not bad, Kim and I chatted away the time. I wanted desperately to tell her about the investigation, to be careful how she acted and such however, not only had I been asked to not say anything yet, but Kim seemed pretty excited to headed up for "a fun weekend," at one point even saying that Bobby was excited that she was going to be "a hot wife."

I was not surprised, or not as much as I might have been. Bobby had loved showing Kim off since they began dating and never seemed to mind the attention other men paid to her. Kim was a naturally outgoing person in addition to being very proud of her body. I'd never describe my own sister as easy, but she had always seemed to view sex much more casually than I ever did. Maybe having a guy as well endowed as Bobby as a husband made that easier; he had to be pretty sure no one else was going to impress her with their 'equipment.' Kim was very confident that Bobby had a knockout for a wife, too. They were a good match, and despite the appearance of casualness and the infrequency of sex that Kim lamented, I knew they were crazy in love.

I had to smile -- actually I giggled and Kim asked what was so funny - as I thought about how not shocked I was by my sister the 'hot wife.' How a couple enjoys their relationship is really just between them, as long as it's consensual and no one is hurt. My giggle was also in recalling that just a couple weeks earlier I'd spread my legs to reveal my barely covered pussy and let a guy take a picture of me. I'd been happy, almost giddy, at the experience and Tony was as erect as the Eiffel Tower as I told him about it later In bed. Love-making was just between the two of us as far as I was concerned, but still our little secret form of foreplay would likely shock other folks as much as Kim's attitude had shocked me. Goodness, I could think of a couple of our friends who would likely faint if they even knew about the porn we would watch.

We arrived at the Renaissance Concourse midafternoon and were able to get right into our rooms; mine of the sixth floor and Kim's on five. I still didn't understand at the time why we had separate rooms. While mine was nice, I didn't need a king bed all to myself, but the bathroom was really nice and it wasn't costing us anything. Well, not money-wise. My 'uniform' was in a pretty box on the bed, with another box for the boots. Betty Kleemen had been right to describe the shorts as hotpants. And she didn't mention that undergarments were part of the ensemble! Blue and white being the KDE colors, both the very small thong panties and lace cup bra were done in that combination. I remember thinking that if you have the money to pay for it, you could probably get anything you want customized. At least it all appeared to be the right size for me. It also began to dawn on me consciously -- I don't know that it hadn't been something I knew would be expected -- that these being done in KDE colors meant they were to be seen...

My room phone rang.

"There's not much to these 'uniforms,' is there?" Kim laughed as soon as I said hello. "I guess every time we wear these undies, we'll think about Atlanta, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," I mused, "I mean, I 'spose we get to keep them. Ew, it would be gross otherwise..." I held up the panties looking at them.

"Did you notice the cup folds down in the bra? It's makes a very nice shelf for the girls..."

"You're looking at yourself in the mirror, aren't you?" I smiled.

"Uh-huh," Kim answered. "Bobby's gonna love this!"

I rolled my eyes. Any normal man would love that view; Kim had great boobs.

"I'll try mine on later. Right now I'm gonna shower and take a nap. We're supposed to be upstairs at 5:30, and this shindig goes on till 10 so I want to get some rest. Come get me at 5:25 and we'll ride up together, 'kay?"

"Mwah, love you."

"Love you too. Don't be late." I hung up the phone and stripped off my clothes, just tossing them in the corner of the bath under the sink, and started the shower.

We got up to the Governor's Suite right at 5:30, Betty greeted us at the door. She was unexpected, not what I pictured at all. Probably fifty, like Bert, she was a knockout. Dark hair with flecks of grey, piercing blue eyes, and the figure of a thirty-five year old. I don't know if it was surgery or hard work, but she looked beautiful regardless. Impeccably dressed in a tailored dark blue suit and salmon silk blouse, she dripped with the sophistication of an elder Southern belle.

"Kim and Rita, welcome!" she said with genuine warmth. "It is so good to finally meet you two. I'm so appreciative of your offer to help with our hospitality suite," she continued as she hugged each of us and tossed air kisses our way.

"Don't you two look just stunning," she said as we were scrutinized with a discerning eye. "Bert, looks who's here," she said turning back to the room.

The warmth I had felt melted in an instant. This was the man who had drugged me and my sister, who had then threatened to release pictures he'd taken while we were out of it to our friends and family, and had convinced Tony and Bobby to sign a contract that could actually ruin us. The FBI had analyzed the contract and explained to me that there were clauses in it that, if we didn't meet certain obligations, would actually let them take the business from us. My smile belied the venom in my heart.

Bert came up and hugged each of us with more familiarity than should have been appropriate, saying how happy he was that we could help out. Betty didn't bat an eye. I wondered how long this charade had been going on between them, and how much she knew.

When Bert stepped away, Betty introduced us to the other three hostesses who were already in the room. There was Maggie, a gorgeous redhead, Anne, a model thin dirty-blonde, and Raquel, a captivating black woman. I smiled thinking how they had to have selected this group of us to meet the fantasies of everyone who might come by for a drink. Or more. Everyone had on the same 'uniform,' and each looked thoroughly inviting.

The bar was set up in what had been the bedroom, the beds having been taken out and replaced with several couches, seats, and low tables. We were also introduced to Sean and Pete, who we would find out were at every conference or tradeshow; they were 'security.'

Trade reps, salesmen, and business owners began to show up just after six. We'd greet them and show them the bar, then make sure they went by the display KDE had set up in a corner of the bedroom across from the bar, and just mingle. I was almost disappointed with the first couple hours, we were just hostesses. There was some innuendoes dropped and a bit of flirting, but nothing much more than a dinner party in your neighborhood or company holiday party.

Just before eight, the room got a bit more crowded, but it then thinned out as Sean and Pete thanked many of the folks for coming by and escorting them to the door. There seemed to be a different vibe, but I wasn't sure why. Bert went around the room talking to all the guys, and I noticed that those who hadn't already were filling out tickets for a raffle, the usual company info requested at every convention so you could be bombarded with sales pitches when you got back home all for a chance at a gift basket or bottle of wine. Nurses, plumbers, surgeons, or fishermen -- all fell for this gimmick at their gatherings to win something free. The only thing different here was that Bert was also collecting cash from each guy. And Betty had left.

By eight thirty he'd made to everyone who remained. No one new had come in as the door had been closed, the welcome sign removed, and Sean and Pete were unmoving sentinels at the one egress.

"Well, It looks like we're ready to get started," Bert said loudly as he took his place in front of the KDE display. "You know the rules, we'll draw for one item at each level every fifteen minutes until all of our prizes are gone. Each round is a separate entry fee. Agreed?" There seemed to be a very enthusiastic response and lots of nodding in agreement from the thirty or forty guys in the room.

"Great," said Bert. "Ladies, please come up front here." Maggie led the way, Kim and I bringing up the rear as we had no idea what was going on.

"How about a round of applause for these beautiful hostesses we have tonight?" Bert queried, which was followed by clapping, whistling, and hoots. I couldn't help but smile, it was authentic appreciation and really flattering.

He waved the crowd down to quiet them, then turned to Maggie with the large plastic fishbowl of entry stubs. With a huge smile on her face, she reached in and drew out a completed info form. I wondered what they were drawing for, everyone was very intent watching her.

Maggie smile at the crowd, peeking at the info form and looking around the crowd, playing them. "The first shirt goes to Jack Embry," she said as she handed the form to Bert.

"Yes!" whooped a fortyish, slim guy in grey slacks and a striped polo stepping forward and being patted on the back by others.

It seemed weird that someone would be that excited, until I saw that Maggie was unbuttoning her shirt. She wagged her head and had Jack step between her and the KDE display, then she turned her back to the rest of the audience and continued to undo her shirt for Jack's eyes only. It didn't take long before the shirt was off and handed to the very appreciative winner, Maggie now turning back to show off the lace bra and her fully covered but clearly visible inviting breasts. She seemed thrilled and I realized that I was excited. She wiggled her chest, catcalls erupted. I looked at Kim -- we were both smiling.

Jack Embry returned to the throng of ogling men holding his prize.

"Next?" Bert asked the other hostesses.

Raquel went next, with the same sort of teasing, and the same enthusiastic response from the crowd. I didn't know how many rounds there would be, what was expected, but was caught up in the excitement. I'd had a grocery guy look down my blouse, and two doctors see me in my tiniest panties with legs spread and could feel the need to be seen growing inside me, warming me, yes, arousing me. I was third, pushing Kim back, stepping in front of Anne.

I hated that Bert smiled at me. There was something slimy in his smile and smugness in his eyes as I reached into the bowl and drew out a name. Tom Samuelson, a sandy blonde in his thirties ran to the front, lust in his eyes. I too turned my back to the crowd and unbuttoned for him alone. My eyes were locked on his, his on my fingers as each button came free. He looked into me as the last button came undone and I held my hands on the shirt over my breasts. I opened it slowly at first, then pulled the shirt wide. His smile grew, he mouthed 'wow.' His eyes moved from mine to my breasts and back. I slid the shirt off my shoulders, handed it to him, and turned to the rest of the revelers. It's so exhilarating when you can finally scratch an itch! Tony was right, I did like this. I knew he would too.

Anne went next, followed by Kim. Kim had the biggest bust, but each of us had admirers, each of us got cheers and wolf whistles. It was dizzying, gratifying, and foolish. I knew certainly that there was no love or caring, carnal desire and testosterone drove the entire room, and I was fine with that. I got a coke and walked about being stared at, lusted after as were each of the other women. Maggie and Anne were provocative, egging the men on.

Bert made the rounds, getting ready for the next round. Fifteen minutes passed quickly, the headiness of the situation not completely clouding my hatred of being forced into this, despite the obvious arousal my body was experiencing. Most of the men were complimentary, only a hand or two touched a shoulder on thigh.

Round two was our bras, which hardly obscured our breasts anyhow. Invariably, all the women had hard nipples, we admittedly were each enjoying this in our own way. The comments were less gentlemanly but not less complimentary. Anne's breasts were what were described as puffies coming almost to a point, and while not big were the obsession of a number of men. Raquel had large areola and swayed in a tantalizing manner as she wandered the room between rounds. All of us were touched at least lightly; Kim put several mens' hands on her breasts and encouraged caressing of them. Maggie, she was a hot wife for sure, was suckled by at least five men that I saw., smiling and enjoying the attention. I wondered what would be considered inappropriate enough to spark action from Sean and Pete who stood observing it all without response.

About half the men left after the second round, declining to pay the 'fee' to enter the next. Was it discretion, faithfulness, guilt? Perhaps they'd had their fun, a brief levity like a stop at a strip joint or a bawdy joke among friends. The fifteen or twenty who were left seemed quieter -- or drunker.

The stretch denim shorts were peeled off in the next round, with Kim taking the lead. When finished, she and I were the only two with pubic hair that showed in the small thongs that remained our only covering, that's how small and transparent they were! There was more lewdness in the comments I heard as I walked around, now with a rum and coke to settle my nerves some. I was enjoying the evening, the novelty, the objectification. I didn't mind the hands sliding over my bottom, but did push several away that sought to slip between my legs. A few men asked what I liked sexually, but I demurred. The only one who needed to know that already did, and he wasn't here. To this point, I knew he would be excited to have me tell him all that had transpired, and I would in all the exactness and detail he desired. But now trepidation arose as I began to contemplate the next round, the expectation being placed on me. Honestly I did not even consider Kim or the others, each had her own choices, her own limitations or barriers. How would Bert react? I was alone with all these men, I had freely removed my all my clothing save this tiny thong, had teased and chatted with them all, let them touch me as no man had in years except Tony, and I'd been drinking. Mindy and Emily filled my mind; would they ever understand? I had chosen, I had been in control, had wanted to show myself to them all, to feel the energy, the urgency, the arousal; what was next?

I was sitting on a couch with a man on either side of me and one in a chair directly opposite me. Not perfect gentlemen, but they were not obnoxious. Bob someone was in the chair and kept opening his legs and nodding at me, suggesting, I knew, that he wanted me to do the same. If we'd been alone somewhere I felt safer, I'd probably - no, I would have. This was not that place, as the guy on my right, Jim? I think, was resting his hand pretty high on my thigh, and the one on my left was chatting me up about my "pretty tits" and "awesome nips." I smiled, are they really all twelve?

Kim came over and leaned over into the face of the guy on the left, swinging her truly awesome tits inches from his face. "Hey, you mind if I borrow my friend for a few minutes?" He nodded stupidly.